If You'll Permit It
by Revolutionary Tears
Summary: A new take on the story between Enjolras and Grantaire, more in depth within their thoughts and their feelings. I felt as thought Hugo didn't elaborate enough on their relationship and left us to our own devices, so here I am, writing what I think. It's not exactly a romance, but it's a sort of love relationship they have.


Enjolras was a keen young man, with a twinkle in his eye and a passion in his heart. He knew what he wanted and he knew how to get it, and what he wanted was not something you'd think at first, yet something all humans secretly wish and pray for. It was not a woman, nor success - but a dream he wished to come true. A vision. A desire more filling than any other; what he yearned for was revolution. A right, correct, good world. Hope, love, happiness, and equality to spread throughout all of France!

He was not a man to be tampered with. He would only speak of politics, and would scarcely speak of anything else. He was so deeply enthralled in this dream, and so desperately in need in it coming true, that it had almost became a desperate thirst - only to be quenched by the reign of justice and the unveiling of what France truly is! He did not wish for a new France, for he loved France too vastly for that. He only wished for the perversions and injustices of his country to be diminished, and to let France's true colours shine through! The true meanings of the beautiful pattern which laid gracefully upon his proud Patria's flag!

To him, his country was everything. She was more a mother to him than his own birth mother, who he had abandoned years before along with his father. He didn't wish for them to drag him down out of the clouds, out of his desire. Only parents who are not supporting would do that, and he would not stand for parents like that. France would never tear him down like that! So he left his parents. He adopted the points and love of his country, much as a nun in the church leaves her possible life behind to adopt the beauty of God and follow his customs. Enjolras was the nun of France, promising to only commit his heart and soul to the welfare and good of his country.

Enjolras was a beautiful young man, with skin of a youthful girl and the glow which youths his age have. He resembled the beauty within a lost country that could be recovered with enough effort and love. His attitude and knowledge was that of a wise man, who had been through the war, although he was scarcely old enough to had done so. In the presence of the lady he would not think too difficultly on what to say, for he did not care to impress anyone - especially a woman. Yes, he had respect for women, but did not plan to impress them with his charm or looks. If a woman were to come up to him and twirl her hair in a flirtatious manner, he would glare upon her and become like a statue, ignoring her entirely and pushing her aside. Women must not mistake him for a lover, for he was a stone cold fighter with a dream.

Now, with you knowing all to be known about this man, I suppose it is time to describe our next important character within our story.

If you were a constant member of the Cafe Musain, you might'v been used to hearing drunken ramblings going on nonstop, yet one would always stand out from the others - one of a skeptical man who was louder and drunker. A man who was terribly ugly and terribly cynical, yet hung around the men who believed in nothing but the greater good and thought that they could succeed in the improvement of France. A man who truly could not remember what being sober felt like, for as soon as he woke up after a night of being drunk, he would get drunk yet again! A man who was a womanizer and seeming to be a terrible character, yet truly wasn't.

This man's name was Grantaire, and he was a drunk who had the tendency to speak out against anyone and anything's opinions. He would speak what he thought was the cold truth, and with a certain loudness that would block out anybody's sound.

If a dog were to remark, 'Oh, what a lovely day! The clouds are gorgeous and the sky is perfectly blue!',  
Grantaire would reply with a staggering laugh and a crisp, 'Why my dear dog, how on earth could you know the colour of the sky? For you are colour blind and cannot know such things! And this is just another dreary day closer to death, which is now only six years away from you - so enjoy it while you can, young fellow! Although I doubt you will, because if no one pity's the child who sobs upon the street for a scrap to eat, then no one will pity the dog who walks aimlessly among the streets. So, then, death may come sooner to you than you think from either being frozen due to the cold or starving like the poor pup you are! And, to be honest, you shouldn't be speaking anyway - too much wine for me, now! Eh...' and then he'd merrily continue to drink and stumble upon his way down the Rue-de-Whatever the street he may have been traveling down.

He was terribly ugly, and had a large gut due to his many years of drinking and wasting away his gull bladder. While the wine ruined his appearance and stench, the wine seemed to have almost no effect upon his brain - or maybe it did. No one knew, for he was never sober enough for them to see the difference between his personality. Some of the cafe-goers theorizes that he's a shy fellow, which causes him to be the opposite when drunk, while another theorizes that it has no effect upon his, and he is one of the lucky few. Although we know that both are not true - Grantaire had never been shy, and it would be nearly impossible to have no outcome from drinking. Even the men back when there was no clean water and only wine were drunk out of their minds, but drank it since there was nothing else to drink.

Grantaire was the complete opposite of Enjolras, and this made Grantaire yearn for the blonde man - the god who seemed to float and rule Grantaire's mind. While Grantaire loved Enjolras, he could not follow the man's dreams. Grantaire loved to stay promptly grounded in the earth and watch Enjolras soar through the clouds of dreams and desires. Nothing excited Grantaire more than to sit down while Enjolras' voice was the only one filling the cafe's empty, devoted, political air. Sometimes Grantaire would purposely say something completely against Enjolras' beliefs just to annoy him, and get a rant to come from between his gorgeous, pale, virgin lips. He loved to just watch them move, or purse when he paused, or make a menacing growl when Grantaire would speak out about how the revolution would fail.

Little did Grantaire know, that behind the glares and the growls, Enjolras did not _hate_ him, like Grantaire suspected. Oh no, not at all. He was just thoroughly annoyed with the fact that Grantaire would constantly flounce himself and tease Enjolras in the way a girl would. But Enjolras, wanted to respect Grantaire. Whenever Grantaire - even though this was completely rare - would offer to help benefit the men, Enjolras very hesitantly would allow him, always to be disappointed. So Enjolras did _try_, but would always, at the end of the day, be completely annoyed with him. But hopefully, one day, things would change.


End file.
